The man of understanding can no more sit quiet and resigned while his country lets literature decay than a good doctor could sit quiet and contented while some ignorant child was infecting itself with tuberculosis under the impression that it was merely eating jam tarts.
All things have their season, unless you are in America, where everything is always in season, yet really nothing is ever in season. Supermarket shelves are full of everything imaginable… except taste. Welcome to the future, where all that can be imagined is always available, but it tastes like cardboard. America, land of the flavorless, home of the bland.